Halloween
by highlands girl
Summary: Steph goes after a skip on October 31st. As always, a Babe story... with a bit of mystery thrown in to keep things interesting.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I offer you a belated Halloween story. You can decide if it is more trick or treat!_

 _A big hug to Dog in the Manger for her inspired editing and patient proofreading. All mistakes are mine._

 _If you are a fan of Ranger/Steph stories, check out my collaboration with ShellSueD and LilyGhost. We write under the pen name HighlandsGirlLilyGhostShellSue._

Variety is the spice of life, or so the saying goes. My name is Stephanie Plum and I am an expert on both variety _and_ spice. Today, for example, I opted for the Halloween variety dozen at the Tasty Pastry. Having worked my way through a Boston Crème and an apple fritter drizzled with caramel, I'm ready to sample a pumpkin spice cake donut with a generous smear of ginger buttercream frosting. _Yum._

The weatherman predicted that October 31st would be wet and cold. On the drive from the bakery to Vinnie's, it seemed likely he would be right. At nearly ten in the morning, there was no rain but the sky was dark with gray, low-hanging clouds and a sharp, swift wind was efficiently stripping the remaining leaves from the trees. As I walked from the parking lot to the front door of the bonds office, red, yellow and brown leaves swirled around me like autumn confetti. Perfect weather for Halloween.

Both Connie and Lula looked up at me in surprise as I entered the bond's office, the little bell attached to the top of door ringing my arrival.

"Hey there," Connie called out. "Did you not get my text? You cleared all of your files earlier this week, and there haven't been any new FTAs since then. I'm sorry you had to make a trip over here—"

"Didn't have to… just wanted to spend some time with friends on my favorite day of the year." I thrust the box of doughnuts at her. "I brought treats!"

Connie gingerly picked out a cruller, protecting what I assumed was a fresh manicure, and passed the box to Lula. In honor of the season, Connie's nails were painted orange. A black web adorned each index finger and it appeared that a tiny, glittery spider was crawling across each thumbnail.

"Wow. I've never seen anything like that," I told her.

"Right? I saw the design on Pinterest. You want me to do yours?" she asked.

I considered her offer for about a half second. "Maybe not. I'm not a huge fan of spiders and other creepy crawlies."

"Yeah," Lula chimed in. "I figure Steph be goin' for something more cuddly than a spider. Something like a _bat_."

"A bat is cuddly?" Connie wrinkled her brow in confusion. A second later, her expression changed. "Oh, I get it!"

Over the course of the morning and the early afternoon, we polished off all but one of the donuts, and I decided I'd head over to my parents house a little early and check on the trick or treat preparations. I'd grown up on a street where nearly every house and yard was decorated for the holiday, each family trying to outdo the other. I think my mom and grandma started planning for Halloween in August or early September. Sure, there would be some favorite decorations left over from when I was a kid, but there would be some new ones too. Even my dad got into the act, dragging the ladder out from the garage so he could hang stands of blinking orange lights around the porch. Occasionally, he surprised us with decorations on the roof of our house. This year, it was a black wooden silhouette of a witch on a broomstick. _Honestly, what's not to love about this holiday?_ I was at the door of the bonds office when Connie's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Christ, where did this come from?"

I turned and saw Connie standing behind her desk, file in hand and a look of uncertainty on her face.

"Steph, I guess you do have a file after all. I swear this wasn't on my desk this morning."

I shrugged. "No worries, Connie. I'll get to work on it first thing tomorrow.'

Connie chewed on her bottom lip. "See, that's the thing. The bond is up tonight at midnight. I can't imagine how I missed this one." She glared at Lula. "I guess it must have been misfiled."

Lula, who had been stretched on the faux leather couch with a powdered sugar donut and the latest issue of Ebony, sat up and glared at Connie. She hit her right ear with the palm of her hand several times and then looked at me. "Yo, white girl. Help me out here 'cause I think I got a problem with my hearing. I coulda sworn I heard someone criticizin' my filing skills, but I know that can't be right."

Connie snorted. "I might criticize your filing skills if you ever filed anything." She looked pointedly at the stacks of files on the floor. "As it is, all I can comment on is your _lack_ of filing."

Lula leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "You have a problem with me, Connie? You sayin' I don't know how to do my job?"

Connie sighed. "I don't have a problem with you, Lula, and I'm not saying you don't _know_ how to do your job. I'm saying you _don't_ do your job. Vinnie's would have an attack and fire us all if we missed a deadline because a file was missing."

"Well, then," I cut in, trying to sound cheerful. "No reason to worry because I'll bring this one in." I glanced from Connie to Lula, understanding that old expression, _if looks could kill_ … Both of the women were armed, I realized, and more than a little dangerous.

"Lula, you want to come with me?"

Lula looked around the office. "Nah, girlfriend. I don't mind helping you out once in a while, but I'm a office professional." She crossed her arms across her chest. "Somebody round here's been disorganizing my files, and I gotta deal with that." She looked around the room again. "I'm gonna organize the shit outta these files."

oOoOo

I sat in my latest POS car, a 1998 puke green Toyota Corolla, looking at the file. Martha Jean Bewley, age 28, had been arrested for child endangerment, possession of a controlled substance and attempted assault of a police officer.

With any luck, she lived in the Burg and I'd have her in custody within a couple of hours. Maybe she would come with me willingly. If not, maybe I could use the promise of one of Connie's Halloween manicures to lure her in. _Maybe I needed to get a grip,_ I sighed to myself.

The file on Martha Jean was surprisingly thin—no photocopy of a driver's license, no work history – just a faded black and white photo, showing a pale woman with dark hair and dark eyes. Her last known address was in someplace called Ong's Hat, New Jersey. Definitely not the Burg.

I pulled out my iPhone and punched Ong's Hat into the search window in Google Maps. The search returned an Ong's Hat Road in Southampton Township, some forty minutes south of Trenton.

It was a slim lead, but a lead nonetheless. The least I could do was go there and ask around. If anything, I hoped to find a diner where I could grab lunch. My stomach growled, and I briefly contemplated heading back into the Bonds office for the last donut. _Have some willpower,_ I told myself _. Think of all the Halloween candy that you'll eat tonight._ I tossed my phone into my purse, started the car and headed out of the city just as the first cold, grey rain drops hit my windshield.

Because of ongoing construction and seemingly permanent traffic delays on I-295, I headed south on route 206. Thirty minutes later, I'd just turned onto South Pemberton Road when my phone rang. The problem was that my phone was in my purse, and my purse was on the floor in front of the passenger seat. Carefully, I leaned to the right, keeping one eye on the road. I stretched a little more, hoping I could hook my fingers around the strap of my purse and pull it a little closer. Just as my fingers closed around the phone, I heard the blare of a horn. I sat up just in time to swerve back into my lane and out of the path of an oncoming semi. I overcorrected and ended up with two wheels on the shoulder and two the tall grass. I was still shaking when I managed to hit the 'talk' button.

"Yo, Babe. You OK?"

"Sure." My heart was still racing, but I tried to sound confident. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your trackers suddenly just went offline. Not a good sign when they all go at once."

"Trackers? As in more than one?" OK, so now I sounded a little shrill. "I never agreed to multiple trackers! What were you thinking, Ranger?"

"I'm thinking that I'm so relieved to hear your voice right now that I'm going to ignore that you sound cranky."

I was still working on a snappy comeback when Ranger spoke again.

"Your last known position was just east of Vincentown. You close?"

"I think so."

"Stay there," he said. "Hal and I are on our way. We'll be there in thirty."

Just over twenty minutes later, there was tap on my window. Ranger wrenched open the door and pulled me out of the car.

His left hand held his phone to his ear, while his right wrapped around my waist and pulled me close. "I have a visual. Yeah, she looks OK," he said into the phone.

Shoving the phone into his jacket pocket, he leaned into me, pinning me against the car. My first thought to register was that we were pressed together chest to groin. My second thought was that the weatherman was sadly mistaken. Turned out, it was wet but not cold today. In fact, I was thinking that it was unseasonably _hot._

"You have to quit scaring the shit out of me like this, Babe."

I managed to get one hand between us and pushed on his chest. With my hand over his heart, it was hard not to notice that it was racing. "Hey, I'm fine. Nothing happened, and it's not my fault that your fancy tracking gizmos had some sort of malfunction."

"Hector has your trackers on parallel, redundant circuits. The chances of your trackers, but no one else's, all failing at once are about a million to one."

I glanced up at him through lowered eyelashes. "So are you saying I'm one in a million?"

Ranger's eyes darkened and he leaned in close. I closed my eyes and waited to feel his lips on mine. Instead, I felt his warm breath on the shell of my ear.

"You have a Halloween date with the Jersey Devil, Babe?"

Immediately, my eyes popped back open. "Huh?"

"What are you doing all the way out here? You're practically in the Pine Barrens." Keeping one hand firmly on my hip, he reached into the car, grabbed the manila folder off the passenger seat and flipped it open.

"You came to pick up a skip? By yourself?"

"It's not like that," I protested, even though it was. "Somehow this got misfiled, and the bond expires at midnight. There's not much to go on, but I thought I would drive out here and ask some questions.

Ranger sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger.

"Get in the Explorer. I'll have Hal take your car home."

In response, I put my hands on my hips and did my best to look as well as sound pissy. "What if I don't need any help?"

He didn't say anything in response. He just stared at me until I caved under pressure.

" _Need_ might have been the wrong word. What if I don't want any help?"

Now his eyes flashed back at me with lust and maybe something else. For a moment, I thought I saw of hint of uncertainty, but I was sure I was wrong because Ranger ground his hips firmly into mine. "Now you don't want me, Babe? Are you sure about that?" his lips whispered against mine.

"Yes," I gasped.

"Yes?" He pulled back a little to look at me, while keeping my lower half pressed firmly between him and the car. He'd once told me that he knew how to apply pressure and now he was proving it. "As in yes, you're sure that you don't want me?"

"Nooo." It came out sounding like a moan. _Traitorous hormones._

With one last flick of his tongue against mine, he put some space between us, smirking. "That's what I thought."

"Time out," I said, trying not to sound breathless. _Smug bastard._ "I can't think like this."

He sighed and put some space between us. "I don't do time outs, Stephanie. That's a "you-and-Morelli" thing. Let's just go get your skip, OK?"

"Why can't we take my car?"

He looked at my Corolla, with its faded paint and slightly dented right quarter panel. "Tempting offer, but no." I saw him look at Hal, who was still methodically walking around my car with an iPad.

"You getting anything?"

Hal shook his head. "It's the weirdest thing. No signal whatsoever." He walked over to me and moved as if he meant to use the iPad to wand me like TSA does at the airport. "I'd worry that someone had tampered with car, but even the personal—"

"What?" I screeched. "Ranger—"

He just grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the Explorer.

"Babe."


	2. Confessions in the Pine Barrens

_A/N: Just in time for Christmas, another chapter of my Halloween story! As always, Dog in the Manger has worked her editing magic and helped me work out some crucial details. All mistakes are mine._

Not quite an hour later, we were once again parked by the side of the road. Ranger was crouched on the ground next to the Explorer. I'd opened the rear passenger door and was perched on the lower edge of the door frame, watching him loosen the bolts that held one of the rear tires in place.

"Admit it," I said, dragging the toe of my shoe through the damp earth and gravel of the shoulder. "This wouldn't have happened if we'd taken my car."

I took his muffled grunt to mean _no._ Or, more likely _, hell no._

He stopped long enough to narrow his eyes at me, then turned his attention back to the truck, slipping the jack beneath the frame.

"Any car can get a flat tire, Stephanie."

Ranger had taken off his Rangeman windbreaker, so it was hard not to notice how well he filled out the T-shirt he was wearing underneath, or how the muscles in his arms flexed as he worked the jack.

"Although, statistically, the probability of this happening to a vehicle, which is under a year old and receives regular maintenance, is lower." He gave the jack handle one final, forceful pump that took the Explorer as high as it would go and nearly bounced me out of the truck.

"You did that on purpose!"

"Maybe," he said with a grin.

I crossed my arms across my chest and tried to scowl at him. "Paybacks can be a bitch, you know."

"Promises, promises." He gave me a look that told me I was playing with fire before turning toward the Explorer to switch the flat tire for the spare. "Why don't you try Google Maps again? We've been up and down Ong's Hat Road three times, and I didn't see a Magnolia Lane."

I looked at my phone. "I would if I had a signal. We still seem to be in some sort of a dead zone here."

The wind picked up, and it started to rain again, but the weather had little to do with the icy knot of anxiety, forming in the pit of my stomach.

"You know," I said cautiously, "this could be a big wild goose chase. The address in the file is 610 Magnolia Lane in Ong's Hat, New Jersey," I stopped, hearing to my mother's voice in my head. _Honestly, Stephanie, I don't know what gets into you. Do you ever stop to think before you launch into one of these hare-brained schemes of yours? Mrs. Rucinksi's daughter—_ I cleared my throat and confessed. "Google maps couldn't find a town named Ong's Hat, but I had a hunch that Magnolia might be near Ong's Hat Road."

Ranger put down the wrench and studied me for a moment. "I trust your instincts, Babe."

Ten minutes later, we were back in the car, the heater cranked up to high to help dry out our damp clothes. We'd gone less than a mile when I caught sight of what looked more like a driveway than an actual street off to the left.

"Hey, there's no sign here but do you think that could be Magnolia?"

"You want to check it out?

I shrugged, crossing my fingers. "Worth a shot, I guess."

Ranger turned sharply, and the wheels of the Explorer sank and spun in the soft white sand and gravel of the unpaved road. He navigated through a dense stand of white pines so thick that their upper branches blocked out what was left of the late afternoon sun, and then across a narrow wooden bridge. The road ended in a clearing, in front of a rambling white clapboard farmhouse.

There were no house numbers, but my spidey sense was going crazy. "I think we found it!"

"Let's check it out, Babe." I was halfway out of the Explorer when Ranger snagged the belt loop on my jeans and pulled me back. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I looked back over my shoulder at him, exhaling slowly. "See, I wasn't planning on going after a skip today. I'd cleared all my files."

He stared back at me, not saying anything.

"By the time I thought about going by my apartment, I was already on the highway—" Ranger's jaw clenched, and somehow that made me talk faster. "—and it's not like I thought this skip would be especially dangerous—"

Now his eyes cut to the file that I'd tossed onto the back seat. I could tell he was mentally reviewing the charges against Martha Jean Bewley. _Child endangerment, possession of a controlled substance and attempted assault of a police officer…_

I was still making excuses as we climbed the three broad steps up to the covered porch that spanned the front of the house. "Besides, it doesn't look like anyone's home."

There was no smoke curling out of the large stone chimney, and the house was dark except for a faint, flickering light in a third story dormer window.

"You never know," he said, his hand at the small of my back, just above where I'd tucked his extra gun.

I knocked once on the heavy wooden door, waited, then knocked again. I was disappointed, but not surprised when no one answered. I studied the tips of my ballet flats for a moment before turning to Ranger to apologize for dragging him out to the Pine Barrens unnecessarily.

"What's the plan?" he asked before I could even open my mouth. "You want to wait here for a little while and see if someone shows up?" He hadn't removed his hand from my back, and now he was running it gently up and down my spine. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

"Would you mind? I mean maybe they're just out trick or treating, or something…" I let my voice trail off. "I'll understand if you say no. I'm sure you had other thing things you planned to do this afternoon."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes dark, intense. "There is nothing I'd rather be doing than spending time with you, Stephanie. Don't ever doubt that."

We'd just stepped off the porch when Ranger touched my elbow. "Look."

A tiny girl with auburn braids was rounding the corner of the house. From her height alone I guessed that she was at least two years younger than Mary Alice. She wearing a long, frilly white night gown that made me think of Wendy in _Peter Pan._ In her right hand, she was clutching a scrap of white cloth. Her left grasped a small tree branch, which she was attempting to drag behind her.

"You have more experience with children—" I began.

"This is your show, Babe."

I shoved my left hand into the front pocket of my jeans and gave a little finger wave with the right.

"Hi! My name is Stephanie, and this is my friend—" I glanced at him, "my friend Carlos. We're looking for the Bewleys' house."

"I'm a Bewley," the little girl said proudly. "My name is Rosie. This is where we live."

I tried not to sound relieved. "Yeah? We knocked on the front door, but nobody answered. We figured, you and your mom must have gone trick or treating." _That would explain the Wendy costume._

Rosie looked back at me blankly. "Trick or treating?"

"You know, you go from house to house, knocking on your neighbors' doors, and they give you candy," I tried to explain. _I'm not an expert on kids but_ _surely Rosie was old enough to know about trick or treating?_

"We don't have any close neighbors." She smiled shyly. "But I like candy."

Ranger shook his head and grimaced. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know exactly what he was thinking. _That stuff will kill you, little Babe._

It was then that I noticed that what I thought was just a piece of cloth was actually a lace-edged handkerchief that had been twisted into a doll shape. One corner had been folded down and stuffed with a wad of cotton to make the doll's head, and a pale pink ribbon was wrapped and tied to form the neck and arms. The edge of the handkerchief was dirty, streaked with something that looked like soot.

"We need to talk to your mom. Is she home?"

"She had to run an errand, but she should be right back. She promised."

I glanced at Ranger. Rosie was clearly too young to stay by herself. _Of course, the bond had said something about child endangerment…_

"Maybe your dad is around? Your grandma?"

Rosie stood up straight. "It's just me and my mom, right now."

Ranger finally spoke up. "That branch looks heavy."

"The fire's gone out," the little girl explained. "It was burning when my mom left, but now, its out, and it's so cold in the house."

"So you're going to try to build another fire in the fireplace?" I'd spent so little time with Ranger in the company of his daughter Julie that I'd never seen his 'dad' mode. I guessed, I was getting a glimpse of it now.

"I know how to do it," she insisted proudly. "I'm almost eight!"

"Maybe we could help you," I said. "Ranger's really good at building fires."

"I don't know." Rosie's bright smile slipped a little. "My mom says not to let strangers into the house when she's gone."

"She's right, Babe," Ranger said, one hand once again at the small of my back. "We can't go inside when Rosie's mom isn't home."

I turned to him, keeping my voice low. "We can't just leave her here alone, either. What if she tries to build a fire? She could hurt herself! She could burn down the house!"

"Maybe we could wait out here together," he suggested, tilting his head toward the wooden porch swing.

"I'm cold," Rosie said plaintively, "and it's getting dark."

Ranger slipped his windbreaker off and wrapped it around Rosie. "We have a blanket in the truck," he told her. He unclipped the Maglite from his belt and flicked it on. "See? We can use this if it gets too dark." He headed for the Explorer while Rosie and I climbed the porch steps.

"Stephanie?" Rosie said, once we were settled on the swing. "I really do like candy."

I managed to round up two miniature Kit-Kat bars from the bottom of my purse, and after she had eaten them, she settled against my left side and went to sleep. Her little doll, now smudged with chocolate, had come to rest in my lap. I couldn't help but notice that both Rosie and the doll smelled faintly of wood smoke.

Ranger returned to the porch and tucked the Mylar blanket from the Explorer's first aid kid around both Rosie and me. Then he sat down on my right side, his weight making the swing bounce and sway. His arm came up to rest on the back of the swing, just behind my shoulders, and I was sorely tempted to snuggle into him as just as Rosie had done with me.

After a couple of minutes, I shifted in my seat so that I could see his face. "You have any Halloween stories from your childhood you want to share? Favorite costume, maybe?"

"Babe."

"I'm serious, Ranger. You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine."

"I think the expression is you _show_ me yours, and I'll show you mine." He glanced over at me. "Speaking of which, it's been a while since I've seen yours and I'm not at all opposed –"

"Ass," I muttered, smacking his shoulder.

"Besides, I already know what your favorite costume was." He was smirking again.

"You think? Wanna bet?"

"Wonder Woman would be the obvious choice."

"I did dress up as Wonder Woman one year," I admitted. "I bugged my mom for weeks, and, finally, she took me to Walmart to get the Halloween costume I'd seen advertised in the Sunday Star Ledger."

"And?"

"It was horrible. The costume, if you can call it that, was an ugly polyester jumpsuit thing with long pants, long sleeves and Wonder Woman's costume screen printed on the middle of it. It was like the anti-Wonder Woman costume."

"Nice." I imagined Ranger indulging in an eye roll under the cover of darkness.

"Not." I snorted. "The silver bulletproof bracelets were plastic, and the Lasso of Truth didn't work."

"Well, that's shocking. How did you make that discovery?" Ranger's lips were quirked up in a half-smile, and I could almost swear that he was teasing me… if Ranger did teasing.

"One day, Mary Lou and I snuck up on Carl Costanza on the playground, and we managed to tie him up. We wanted to know, which girl in the class he liked the best, but he wouldn't tell us."

Ranger had a full-on smirk now, which I was choosing to ignore. "I'm not sure you needed a Lasso of Truth to figure that one out, Babe. Or has Carl been looking at you with that puppy-in-love face only for the last couple of years?"

"Honestly, I don't know you what you mean," I muttered, sinking down into the swing. _I mean, that was a mostly honest answer. I wasn't completely sure that Carl liked me. That's why we had to tie him up. I usually found it impossible to figure out the men in my life and their feelings for me. Take Ranger, for instance. I could use of few minutes with him and a real Lasso of Truth—_

Ranger chuckled, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and he reached out to rest his hand on my knee. "While I find the idea of you tying me up tempting, if you are unclear about my feelings, all you need to do is—"

I shook my head at him. No way in hell was I going to ask _that._ So I stuck with my Wonder Woman story. "But, that was not the worst of it. There was no tiara! Just a stupid plastic mask."

"Well, that is disappointing." Two hundred watt smile now. _Yep, I was amusing him._

"Don't laugh at me. The tiara should have been the coolest part of the costume. Wonder Woman's real tiara had a razor sharp edge, and she could throw it like a boomerang. Besides, it protected against telepathic attacks." Come to think of it, I could use a tiara too. Maybe it would provide some protection against the mind-reading thing Ranger did so well.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Steph, but you have to realize that I can't actually read your mind."

"Right." I crossed my arms, glaring at him.

Uncharacteristically, Ranger sighed. "If I could read your mind, I would know what your favorite Halloween costume was." Every time the swing slowed and nearly stopped, he pushed the toe of his Bates boot into the floor of the porch, and we began to move again, back and forth.

I didn't hesitate. "The best Halloween costume I ever had was a gypsy costume that my Grandma Mazur made for me."

"Yeah?" One eyebrow went up.

"It was awesome. For the skirt and the head scarf, she used a piece of red silk that _her_ mother had brought from Hungary. We found a purple peasant blouse at Macy's, and Grandma sewed a double row of gold coins along the bottom edge."

"Gold coins?"

"Shiny gold-colored _plastic_ coins. We bought a package of them at the dollar store, and my Grandpa Mazur drilled a tiny hole in each one just big enough for a sewing needle to pass through." I paused, playing with a loose thread on my sweater.

"I bet you scored a lot of Halloween candy that year."

"I'm afraid you'd lose that bet. I woke up on Halloween morning with a fever of 102. I had strep throat, and I was stuck in bed while everyone else was trick or treating. My dad told Valerie that she had to share her candy with me, but my throat was so sore, I couldn't eat a single piece."

Ranger reached out and squeezed my hand. "I'm sorry that you're missing Halloween again, Babe. I know this is one of your favorite holidays."

"It's OK. There's always next year. I didn't have big plans anyway. I was just gonna dress up and give out Halloween candy."

"On Slater Street? Or at your parents' house?"

"Does it matter?"

"To me, Steph? Yeah, I think it does."

"Ranger, you know it's been four months since I broke up with Joe—"

"Four months, 17 days…" he glanced at the Breitling on his wrist, "five hours, give or take." He sucked in a breath. "As long as you're not planning to go to his house tonight."

"You're counting?"

Ranger shrugged. "Counting the days that Morelli has behaved like a dumbass for letting you go sure beats counting the days since I made the idiotic move of sending you back to him."

"I can't believe this," I whispered.

Ranger planted his feet, causing the swing to stop abruptly. "Six hundred fifty-three days, ten hours, and—" he glanced at his watch again.

"Stop. Stop right now."

"It's become such a habit, I'm not sure that I can."

We sat shoulder to shoulder, staring out into the darkness. I was getting ready to concede defeat and suggest we head back to Trenton with Rosie when Ranger broke the silence.

"My favorite Halloween was the year I got to be a cowboy," he said softly.

"Seriously?"

"As little kids, all my friends and I wanted to do, was play cowboys and Indians. After school, we would watch reruns of the Lone Ranger and Gunsmoke. Then, when our moms would make us go outside, we'd re-enact what we'd seen on TV."

"The masked man was one of your childhood heroes?"

"Of course. But with my coloring and my long hair—"

"Wait, you had long hair even then?"

Ranger nodded. "So, it was always assumed that I'd be one of the Indians."

"That hardly seems fair."

He shrugged. "I learned to deal. But, I still dreamed of being the cowboy." He glanced over at me. "Finally, the year I turned seven, I got my wish. Real black leather boots. A black western shirt with silver buttons. White cowboy hat. I was a righteous cowboy."

"Sounds like it. Did this costume come with a gun?"

"Oh, yeah." Ranger's head was thrown back, and his eyes were closed as if he was lost in the memory. I saw his lips tilt up in a half smile. "There were two. They were Pony Cap Guns with red and white leather holsters. I burned through a roll of caps before we made it off the first block." His eyes opened. "I think that's when I fell in love with the smell of gunpowder."

"My mom has a gun," said a sleepy voice next to me. "She took it when she ran her errand. I bet, she'll show it to you if you ask."

Ranger stiffened, his right hand moving to rest on his Glock. With his left, he reached for the Maglite and switched it on.

At the edge of the porch was a pale woman, dressed all in black. Long black coat. Black boots. Her dark curly hair was wild around her face. And she was holding a shotgun.


	3. Spooky

_**A/N: Thank you, dear readers, for your patience. One more chapter after this. I'm grateful to Dog in the Manger for her ongoing encouragement and editorial skills. All mistakes are mine.**_

"Mama, you're home!" the little girl beside me exclaimed happily. She wiggled out from underneath the blanket and ran across the porch before I could stop her.

"Rosie?" Martha Jean Bewley squinted against the glare of the Maglight Ranger had trained on her. When two little arms wrapped around her waist, she lowered the shotgun, and her shoulders sagged in relief. "Ah, lovey, you're OK." She bent slightly to scoop Rosie up with her free arm and kissed her forehead.

"I knew you would come back because you promised, but it took you _so_ oo long."

"I know, Rosie girl, and I'm sorry. I got here as soon as I could—"

During the mother-daughter reunion, Ranger slipped off the porch and now had one hand on the shotgun. As he moved to pull it away from Martha Jean, her grip on it tightened. "Who are you?"

"This is my friend, Carlos, Mama. He and Stephanie kept me company while you were away." Rosie shivered, even though she was still wearing Ranger's jacket. "I was cold… and I was starting to get hungry."

Martha Jean let go of the gun and wrapped both arms around her daughter. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I won't leave you ever again."

Ranger cleared his throat and looked at me. "Do your thing, Babe." _Even if you don't really want to,_ I think he added silently.

I scrambled off the porch swing and joined the rest of them in the yard. "Mrs. Bewley, my name is Stephanie Plum, and I represent your bond agent. You missed your court date, and we need to take you to Trenton to reschedule."

"Court date?" Martha Jean looked puzzled.

I dropped my voice, not wanting to upset Rosie. "You do know there are charges against you, right?" I mentally sifted through the options, hoping to land on the one that was most appropriate to mention in front of a seven-year-old. "Among other things, there was the issue with the federal agent."

"That wasn't my fault." She shook her head vehemently, causing her curls to fall in front of her right eye. She tucked her hair behind her ear and hugged her little girl even more tightly. "He wouldn't let me go, and I needed to get back to Rosie."

"You need to explain that to the judge," I told her. "He'll understand there were extenuating circumstances." _Probably._

"What's wrong, Mama?" Rosie twisted around in her mother's arms to look at me. "Stephanie?" Her voice cracked, and her lower lip began to quiver. "Carlos?"

Ranger handed the shotgun to me and then stepped closer to Rosie, adjusting his jacket so that it better covered her thin shoulders.

"First, we're going to get the emergency TastyKakes from the first aid kit," he said. "Would you like that?"

Rosie smiled shyly and nodded. "I like cake even more than I like candy."

Ranger smiled back. "Then we're all going to take a drive in my car."

While Rosie sat on her mother's lap and enjoyed a couple of Chocolate Bells, Ranger and I stood by the Explorer and negotiated the details of our trip back to Trenton.

"I don't like the idea of transporting a skip without restraints," he said. "There's too much that could go wrong."

"It's not like Martha Jean is violent, and I don't think she's a flight risk," I argued. "Besides, a child shouldn't have to see her mother in cuffs."

"But— "

"Honestly, I think you would be more worried about how we're going to restrain Rosie." If there's one thing my sister had impressed upon me, it was that young children always needed a car seat. When we had asked Martha Jean about using theirs, she had just shrugged and said, _no car._ "Are you sure there's not an emergency booster seat in the first aid kit?" I asked staring at Rosie's chocolate-stained face. _Emergency TastyKakes? Who knew? I wondered if they were in all of the fleet vehicles or just—_

"Every one," Ranger said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me closer to him.

"Booster seats?" I let myself relax into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

"TastyKakes. Ever since you did that first redecorating job with us, it seemed like a good idea." I felt him stiffen slightly, and when I looked into his eyes, I caught a rare glimpse of sadness. "For a while, when Julie was younger, the Miami fleet had booster seats in case of an emergency, but she obviously wouldn't need one now."

In the end, we helped Martha Jean and Rosie into the backseat of the Explorer, Ranger taking extra care fastening the seat belt around the little girl. We'd been on the road about ten minutes when I snuck a glance over my shoulder at them. Rosie had fallen asleep, one hand clutching her doll and the other entwined with her mother's. Martha Jean was staring out the side window, tears glistening on her cheeks.

"Hey Babe, what time did you say the bond expired?"

I shifted in my seat, studying his profile. "Midnight. Why?"

Ranger tilted his head at the clock on the dash. "If we hit traffic when we get back to Trenton, we're not gonna make it. You want to call the TPD and let them know we're on our way? Maybe their clocks will be running a little slow tonight."

I knew the number to the TPD by heart. I dialed and was relieved when my friend Eddie answered the phone.

"The squad room's a madhouse right now," he said. "I don't know what it is about Halloween that brings out all the crazies."

 _Right._

"So Eddie, I'm on my way to the station now. I picked up a skip out near the Pine Barrens, but the traffic is intense. Do you think-"

"We're totally backed up in intake. No one's going to notice if you sign in at 1159 and it's actually a little later." He hesitated. "And there's no one here who could care if you did."

"Thanks, Eddie. You're the best."

It was ten minutes past midnight when we pulled into the back lot of the TPD. Ranger angled the Explorer into the parking space closest the loading dock and turned to look at me, letting the engine idle.

"How do you want to do this, Babe?"

Before I had a chance to answer, the back door to the station popped open, and a man stepped onto the concrete platform and waved. Oddly, most of the lights that typically lit the loading dock were off or burned out, and the interior light from the station cast shadows around him.

I rolled down my window and squinted at him, trying to figure out who he was. He was too tall for Eddie and too thin to be Big Dog.

"Ms. Plum, uh, Stephanie?" he called.

"Hello?" I answered the unfamiliar voice.

"Your friend sent me out to collect your skip so you wouldn't have to come inside."

"My friend? You mean Eddie?"

"That's right." He bobbed his head up and down. "He said to tell you he would take care of the paperwork, and you could just swing by in the morning for a body receipt." The man glanced at his watch. "But we'd better hurry if we want to make the midnight deadline."

I twisted in my seat so I could see Martha Jean. "You're going to need to go inside and get things sorted out," I told her. "Hopefully, the judge will grant bail again, and I'll make sure Vinnie writes the bond, but that probably won't happen until the morning."

Martha Jean nodded resignedly. "You'll take good care of Rosie." It was more of a statement than a question.

"We will," I said. I reached over the back seat and pressed a business card into her hand. "My brother-in-law is an attorney. If you want to call him, I'll make sure you get the family discount."

Blinking back tears, Martha Jean tucked the card into her coat pocket and then scooted across the seat toward Rosie. She laid her cheek against that of her sleeping child and murmured, "Be good for Stephanie and Carlos, lovey. I won't be gone for so long this time, I promise."

"Stephanie?" Eddie's guy called again. "Do you need any help?" At this point, he'd moved from the loading dock to the parking lot and was standing a few feet from the Explorer.

I fished the _Authorization to Apprehend_ papers out of my purse, and scrambled out of the car, Martha Jean following me.

"I appreciate your help," I said to the guy standing front of me. "Um, do I know you?" Up close, I realized that he was one of the few TPD officers I'd never met. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Yeah. I would have remembered this guy.

"I've seen you around," he answered with a shrug, and he gave me a lopsided grin. "You don't have to worry. I'll take care of everything."

As he reached for Martha Jean's hand, I caught the sleeve of his jacket. "Wait, I don't think I even know your name."

"Leo—" Just then, two TPD patrol cars went screaming out of the parking lot, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The noise drowned out anything else he might have said. I turned toward the sound and watched just for second, wondering who was driving and where they were headed in such a hurry. When I turned back around, Martha Jean and the guy were gone.

"That was a little weird," I said to Ranger, climbing back into the Explorer. "Did you see where they went?"

"The patrol cars? I suspect they're headed over to South Clinton to check out a car fire. I had a text from the control room, and I told them it wasn't our fault."

"Smart ass." I kept my voice low in deference to Rosie. "I'm talking about Martha Jean and the officer Eddie sent out to collect her. It was like they just disappeared."

Ranger quirked one of his damn sexy eyebrows at me. "Where would they have gone except inside?" He looked pointedly at the back seat. "And that's exactly where we need to go. We need to talk to social services."

"Do you think that's really necessary? Maybe we could take her to RangeMan or maybe I could take her home with me tonight, and then tomorrow I could arrange for her to stay with Valerie."

"Steph, we don't have any legal grounds to keep her."

"If you don't mind, I think I'd like to go home now," said a small voice from the back seat.

"Your mom's going to be busy here in Trenton for a while," Ranger said, turning to look at Rosie. "I… _we_ don't think it's a good idea for you to stay by yourself."

"But I won't be alone. My father can take care of me."

"You have a dad at home?"

"I do now," the little girl said. "He was away for a long time, but he's back now."

"Anything in the file about Martha Jean's husband?" Ranger muttered. I knew the answer to his question, but I flipped through the thin sheaf of papers anyway. Ranger didn't need ESP to know that I hadn't found anything.

"Why don't we call him and let him know that we're on our way," Ranger suggested gently to Rosie.

"No telephone," the little girl replied. "But he'll be there. I know he will."

"Listen," I said. "Let's just drive back out there and check. If you're tired, we can pick up my car, and I can drive Rosie myself."

"Babe," was Ranger's only reply as he started the car and headed back toward the Pine Barrens.

Almost an hour later, Ranger pulled to a stop in front of the house and cut the engine. This time, the house was awash in light, every window illuminated with a soft orange glow. Almost before we could get out of the Explorer, the front door opened, and a man stepped out onto the porch. It was too dark to see much of his face, but in the light that spilled from the house, it was obvious that he had a crutch tucked under his right arm, and his empty right pants leg was rolled to knee level.

"Rosie," he called out. "Is that you?"

"Papa!" she answered, as Ranger lifted her out of the car and set her gently on the ground. "Don't sound so worried. I'm home! I'll be right there.

"My papa was a soldier in the war," she said proudly as I made my way to join her and Ranger. "He was fighting to keep us safe, but now he's home."

"Maybe we should talk with your dad a second," Ranger said, "explain about your mom."

"That isn't necessary." She sounded so serious for a minute that I almost forgot that she was seven years old. "Papa understands about Mama. He knows that she did what she needed to do." She turned to me, giving me a quick hug. "Thank you," she said softly. "I won't ever forget you."

"Rosie—" Before I could finish my sentence, she slipped away, leaving Ranger's jacket at my feet, and was running toward the porch.

"Papa, Papa, Papa," she called out, giggling as ran. We saw him scoop her up with his free arm and place a kiss to the top of her head. He gave us a quick wave, and the two of them disappeared into the house.

It was nearly three by the time we made it back to my apartment. By silent agreement, we took the elevator and when Ranger pulled my back to his front, I let my head flop onto his shoulder, and I didn't even try to suppress a yawn.

Once he'd done his regular sweep of my apartment, we stood in my kitchen, sharing a bottle of water.

"You want to stay?" I asked him after he'd offered me the last sip.

Ranger caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. "Wanting has never been the issue," he said quietly.

"If you stay, will either of us get any sleep?"

No answer from Ranger. Just that damn sexy wolf grin.

"So after we're done not sleeping, are you going to spend the rest of the day in bed with me, or are you going to roll out of here the minute your phone rings?"

The grin disappeared and the look that replaced it was heavy with regret. "Babe, I…"

I held up my hand in a 'stop' gesture. "I get it, Ranger, I really do."

"I wish—" he began.

"I wish too. You think you could convince the boss to give you a day off anytime in the next week?"

"The boss is a real hard ass, but maybe if I ask nicely— "

"Then you be sure and do that." I brushed my lips lightly across his cheek. "Maybe we could try this whole not sleeping thing then, when we have plenty of time."

I wanted to walk Ranger to my front door, but he insisted on tucking me into bed. I stripped off my clothes, and he helped me pull one of his RangeMan t-shirts over my head. After he had covered me with the quilt on my bed, he dropped a kiss to the tip of my nose.

"Sueña conmigo, Querida. Dream of me."

 _Honestly_ , I thought, snuggling into my pillow. _How could I not?_ I was asleep before Ranger made it to the parking lot.


	4. Treats

**_A/N: Thank you, dear readers, for your patience, your thoughtful reviews and your questions. Hugs to Dog in the Manger for her encouragement and excellent editing skills. Most of the characters belong to JE. All mistakes are mine._**

Hours later, I awoke with a shiver. My bedroom was cold. My quilt had disappeared, and my t-shirt had ridden up, exposing much of my back to the cool air.

Someone was placing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the small of my back and, inexplicably, I smelled coffee and… cinnamon.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Is it morning?" I mumbled, my face still buried in the pillow.

"Past morning. I don't get many days off, and you're wasting time."

"Day off? You have a day off?" I rolled over and sat up, reaching for the stainless steel travel mug Ranger had apparently placed on my bedside table.

Ranger looked at his watch. "It began twenty minutes ago."

I sniffed at the mug in disbelief. "You brought me a pumpkin spice latte? No way!"

"No way," Ranger agreed. "It's a café con leche with cinnamon. It's made with skim milk and few extra spices Ella likes to add."

I took a sip and moaned a little. "Oh yeah. This is yummy."

Ranger's eyes were as dark as onyx but to my surprise, he didn't climb into bed with me to finish what we'd almost started last night.

"Drink up, Babe. You need to get in the shower. We have plans today."

"We do?" I took another sip, looking up at him through lowered lashes. "But what if I just want to stay in bed and enjoy my treat?"

He picked me up and started walking me toward my bathroom. "Clock's ticking, Stephanie. We have unfinished business."

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of the Turbo; my damp curls pulled back in a messy ponytail. "Could we maybe swing by the TPD and pick up my body receipt?" I asked him.

"I sent Erik to do it. New guy from Atlanta," Ranger clarified, seeing my quizzical look.

I wasn't overly surprised when Ranger turned onto Haywood. The shock came when we pulled into the Rangeman garage and saw Lester was waiting for us, wearing a Dracula's cape and fangs.

"What did you put in that coffee?" I asked Ranger. "I think I'm hallucinating."

"Come on, Beautiful, just say it." Lester was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little boy who'd had too much sugar.

When Ranger handed me a sparkly gold tiara, a magic wand topped with a star and streamers, and a plastic jack o'lantern bucket with a sturdy black handle, I began to have an inkling of what was happening.

"It's not a gypsy costume because I'm pretty sure we could never top what your Grandma made you, Babe. I think it will work for trick or treating, though."

"You want me to trick or treat? Here?" I wrinkled my forehead in confusion.

"Finally!" Lester shouted. "You said the magic words. Give me your bucket."

He carefully placed three foil-wrapped candies into the plastic pumpkin, each one tied with a red silk ribbon.

"Chocolate-covered cherries. I made them myself."

"You made them? Like in your kitchen?"

Lester's eyes darkened, and he waggled his eyebrows at me, ignoring Ranger's scowl. "Well, yeah. I have a bedroom recipe too but under the circumstances—"

Les only stopped when Tank magically appeared in the garage and smacked him in the back of the head.

"You were supposed to bring her straight to four," Tank said. "We want our turn too."

"Does somebody want to tell me what's going on?" I looked from Tank to Lester and finally to Ranger.

"The guys heard you that you missed on trick or treating, Steph." I wasn't sure he was talking about last night, or when I was eight, but he didn't wait for me to ask. "They figured out a way to make it up to you."

"By having me trick or treat on the fourth floor." All of a sudden my throat felt suspiciously tight, and I had to blink back the tears.

"Not just four," said Tank, taking my hand and pulling on it gently. "The guys in the control room didn't want to miss out on the fun, so you have to go there too. And when you're finished, Ella has made a special lunch."

By the time we made it to the break room where Ella was waiting with a beef and butternut squash stew and warm sesame rolls, my jack o'lantern was overflowing. Bobby gave me two apples dipped in caramel and drizzled with both white and dark chocolate. There were rice krispie treats studded with peanut butter M and M's from Vince and something Woody called "ghost" fudge.

"White chocolate fudge was my Mama's special recipe," he'd told me as he'd handed me a small Tupperware container wrapped with an orange and black ribbon.

"I can't wait to try it," I assured him, mumbling around a mouth full of cookie. Tank had made cat-shaped sugar cookies and frosted them with a black butter cream icing.

"This looks amazing," I said to Ella. I looked around the crowded break room. "I'm not sure there are going to be enough chairs for everyone, though."

Ranger sat and pulled me into his lap. "Guess we'll just have to share."

He slipped a spoonful of Ella's stew into my mouth, and I closed my eyes, savoring the taste. "Mmmm."

I heard throat-clearing and opened my eyes to see an unfamiliar Rangeman standing in front of us at parade rest, his eyes staring at the ground and his face beet-red.

I felt Ranger's chest shake with silent laughter, but his face gave nothing away. "Yes, Erik?"

The younger man relaxed slightly and looked up at his boss. "We have a slight problem, sir."

"Explain."

"TPD had no record of you or Ms. Plum dropping off a skip earlier this morning."

"There's obviously been some mistake," I muttered. "Damn rookie." Erik looked pained. "No offense," I told him. "I wasn't talking about you."

"You want me to take care of it, Babe?" Ranger had one hand on my hip while his other was rubbing soft circles at the small of my back.

"Nah, thanks. Let me call Eddie, and we'll get this sorted out." I hauled my black messenger bag into my lap and pulled out my phone.

The digital clock on the break room wall said 15:15, and I began some quick calculations in my head. _Fifteen minus twelve… Eddie had worked second shift last night, and unless he had the day off he was likely to be back at work._ I dialed and then waited.

"Hey, Eddie," I breathed out a sigh of relief when a familiar voice answered the phone.

"Hey, Steph. Sorry, I missed you last night. You have any trouble dropping off your skip?"

"No, not exactly. The officer on duty told me just to stop by the station this morning for my body receipt, but there seems to be a mix-up in the paperwork. Erik stopped by to pick it up for me, but the clerk wouldn't give it to him."

"Erik, huh? You have an assistant now?"

"Erik's not my assistant," I told him without thinking. "He's Ranger's."

I heard a few snickers, and Erik turned even redder. "Sorry," I mouthed at him.

For the next twenty or thirty seconds, Eddie was silent as he tapped on his keyboard. "Steph," he finally said. "There isn't a record of you dropping off a skip last night."

"Check under the skip's name. Martha Jean Bewley."

I heard more typing. "Nothing."

Check the intake log for any women brought in between eleven pm and two am. Maybe, the new guy just got our names wrong."

"New guy?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure he told me how new he was. I'd never seen him before, but he knew my name and told me that you'd sent him out to the loading dock to meet me and the skip."

Once again, there was silence on the other end of the line. "Intake shows three in that time frame, all men. Two guys were hauled in from a bar near the docks and booked on drunk and disorderly. The third was a transvestite hooker who propositioned one of our guys down on Stark."

"Maybe the guy tried to log her in, and there was a computer glitch. Or maybe he just forgot." _Damn rookie._

"This guy tell you his name, Steph?"

I bit my lip, trying to remember. Leo? Leonard? Leon? "I think his name was Leon," I said after a pause.

"Here's the thing, Steph. We didn't have any rookies working last night in the squad room. All the new guys were paired up with veterans and were out in the field on patrol." He cleared his throat. "I wish I could tell you that I sent somebody to meet you, but things were so crazy…"

"So why the hell was Leon outside waiting for me, Eddie?"

"Maybe the better question is _who_ is Leon? "

I disconnected and tossed my phone onto the table, sighing as I shifted slightly in Ranger's lap.

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and he put his hands on hips to keep me still. "Whoa, Tiger. Let's hold that thought until later. What did Eddie say?"

I felt color flooding to my face. "I'm sorry, but it looks like I'm going to have to go by the station and sort this out. Eddie can't find any record of the skip we brought in last night. I rifled through my bag. "That's odd," I muttered more to myself than anyone else. "I could have sworn I had the file in my bag and don't remember taking it out when I got home last night. Maybe I left it in the car?"

"Binkie, check the Explorer we drove yesterday. Les —"

"I'm on it," he said. "I'll try a name search in the PROMIS/Gavel database."

Binkie had returned to the break room before I had time to finish my bowl of stew.

"No file, boss. But I did find this in the back seat." He held up a scrap of dirty white cloth, tied with a pink ribbon.

"Ranger, that's Rosie's doll. We have to return it to her."

Before he could answer, Lester was back too, clutching a single sheet of paper in his hand.

"An arrest warrant was issued for Martha Jean Bewley on November the 1st—"

"Les, that doesn't make any sense," I interrupted him. "Today is November the 1st."

He cleared his throat. "November first, nineteen twenty-five." I just stared at him, open-mouthed, and Ranger looked grim.

"According to a newspaper report at the time, Martha Jean was an innkeeper of sorts. Her husband went missing during the Great War, and she took in boarders to make ends meet. Turns out, her inn was a popular speakeasy.

"On October 31, 1925, she apparently ran out of hooch. She borrowed a 1921 Ford from one of her guests and headed to the still that was one farm over. She didn't expect to be gone long, so she left guests partying in her front parlor, and her 7-year old daughter asleep in her third-floor bedroom."

"Possession of a controlled substance," I muttered. "That was on the bond sheet. I guess alcohol was considered a controlled substance during Prohibition."

"Don't be too hard on Martha Jean," Bobby piped up from the corner of the room. "New Jersey never ratified the Eighteenth Amendment and was considered a 'wet' state. There were speakeasies all over Trenton in the Twenties. I've read there was even one across the street from the police department where the cops liked to drink."

"Go on," Ranger urged Les, barely hiding his impatience.

Les ran a hand through his spiky blond hair and sighed. "Bobby's correct that local law enforcement tended to turn a blind's eye most activities related to the sale and consumption of alcohol, but that didn't stop the federal government from attempting crackdowns from time to time. On October 31st, federal agents raided the farm owned by Eli Harrison near Ong's Hat."

"Shit." That was from Binkie, who was still clutching the handkerchief doll he'd found in the car. He looked a little sheepish when he handed it to me.

"Turns out, the feebs weren't the only visitors to the farm that night. Most bootlegging was controlled by the organized crime, and most stills had to pay 'taxes' to continue operating. Mobsters from Philadelphia were in Ong's Hat to collect fees, and when federal agents showed up, a shootout ensued."

"When an agent name Leon Wiseman tried to take Martha Jean into custody, she shot him in the foot and escaped."

"Don't tell me she never went back to collect her daughter," I said, thinking about the child endangerment charge.

"I suspect she tried." Les locked eyes with Ranger and some sort of silent communication passed between them. Les took a step closer to me and laid one hand on my shoulder. "While she was dealing with the mobsters and the cops, there was a problem at the house. A spark from the fireplace set fire to the parlor curtains. A tipsy guest panicked and threw his drink on the smoldering fabric, but the moonshine just fueled the fire."

"Tell me they all got out safely," I begged him.

"All but one," he answered softly. "No one at the house knew that Rosie Bewley was upstairs asleep."

I climbed off Ranger's lap. "None of this makes any sense. I'm going to check on the little girl we met last night and return her doll."

This time, we drove the Turbo. Ranger took my left hand and placed it on top of the gearshift, resting his hand on top of mine. I could tell that he wasn't entirely in his driving zone, as his thumb traced little circles over my skin.

I twisted in my seat so that I could see his profile. "There has to be an explanation, don't you think? Maybe the Rosie we met last night is somehow a descendant of the family that used to live there? I mean, we're going to go back and find that little girl, and she's going to be happy we brought her doll back, right?"

I held my breath as Ranger turned off the main road onto Magnolia. The sky was a brilliant blue and unlike yesterday, there wasn't a cloud in sight.

I don't think either of us was surprised when we reached the end of the gravel road, and we saw the ruins of an old farmhouse. The southwest corner of the stone foundation was still standing, along with most of a red brick chimney that easily reached two stories.

Ranger shoved the car into park, and we sat for a moment, not speaking. Finally, he climbed out of the care and walked around to open my door. "Let's find Rosie."

About 30 yards from the ruins of the house, in a small clearing, was a cemetery. We brushed away the piles of dried leaves from the closest headstone so that we could read engravings.

 _George Edward Bewley, beloved son of Alexander and Martha Jean Bewley_

 _b. December 1, 1916_

 _d. December 2, 1916_

"Omigod, Ranger. Martha Jean had a son who only lived one day."

Oddly, the next grave looked well-tended. The grass around the stone had been clipped short, and there were no leaves to clear away. Instead, there was a small bouquet of late-blooming wildflowers, tied with a faded pink ribbon.

Rose Marie Bewley, beloved daughter of _Alexander and Martha Jean Bewley_

 _b. December 1, 1916_

 _d. October 31, 1925_

"And Rosie was a twin," I added sadly.

I caught the fleeting scent of smoke in the air and then it was gone. I imagined that somebody on one of the nearby farms was burning leaves. Probably.

I pulled the doll out of my pocket-book and laid it against the headstone next to the flowers. Instead of walking away, as I intended to do, I sat down on the little patch of grass and sobbed for the Bewley family.

After I was all cried out, Ranger tugged me to my feet, and we walked slowly back to the car, hand in hand. He'd just opened the passenger door when a sound made we whip around and stare at the woods at the end of the clearing.

"Did you hear that?" I demanded. Even if he said no, I knew I'd heard laughter. Children's laughter.

"Probably kids from a house down the road." Even as he said the words, I could tell he didn't believe them. The closest farm had to be at least a half mile away.

We didn't talk all the way back to Trenton. That was normal for Ranger. For me, not so much. He pulled into the underground parking lot, sliding the Porsche into an empty parking space. He shut off the engine and then turned to face me.

"Sorry, Babe. I didn't even ask if you wanted to go back to your apartment or come here. I shouldn't have assumed—"

I placed one finger over his lips to silence him. "It's OK. After all, I don't think I finished my trick or treating here. Are there any treats for me on seven?"

Ranger's eyes darkened, and he pulled me close. "Do you even have to ask that?"

"But are they sweet?" I persisted.

"I seem to recall from the last time you stayed on seven that you liked _spicy_ , but I can definitely do sweet." He brushed his lips ever so gently across mine.

Have I mentioned how much I love variety?


End file.
